poemranker ::Sci-fi ode to poemranker nicknames by zodiac

DetailsThe poem, its numbers, and the conversation.

Free verse № 79942

Sci-fi ode to poemranker nicknames

by zodiac

Member since 2004 · Posted 21 Jan 2004 · Edited 23 Jan 2004 · 12 comments

In the future We all get new faces sutured Onto our old faces; And you can change them on a weekly basis (that is, if you can afford it.) And so (you can imagine) we've all kinds of sordid Soirees at matinees, The races, And other public places - At rendezvous over imported Brows, lips, cheeks (everyone speaks Highly now of the romanesque, but it was traces Of the Greek Just last week.) - Man! It's the life! A drunk girl shimmies up to you at the Dôme, Whispers: last week when you took me home - Remember? You were Keats And I was Shelley, and places Her hand on your groin (though now you're Blake And she's some blonde Frau Goering, Or something such; a little boring, And identityless and plasticky-fake After too much dancing with the knife - ) - Jesus! It's the life! It's wearing anonymity like tangled sheets, Like week-old briefs (that is, we all wear 'em - But it's not something you advertise;) It's cigarette-tasting cold mornings, the harem Smell of disinterest, a stranger snoring And yourself a stranger (and yes, probably boring;) It's endless meaningless greetings and goodbyes; And the peculiar surprise Sometimes of waking Up and finding you've been making Love with your own wife.

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12 comments

[n/a] -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. 23-Jan-04/9:44 AM Reply
More to the point, I think, is the peerless pleasure of an evening stroll on Jesus Green, smoking a good pipe, delighting in the smell of the air and the trees, and watching the smoke lazily curl up into the air to mingle with the uneducated smoke from the chest-nut vendors' stands.

I remember one autumn when I was escorting the Captain's daughter, as she was then, to the boat-houses one fine evening, when a crudely-dressed vagrant began to skilfully gamboll and whistle a lewd tune in front of us. Quick as a flash, I seized a handful of hot coals from a chest-nut stove and flung them against the peasant's rudimentary tunic, which I now saw to be made of oil paintings and straw. The wretched fellow burst into flames at once, shrieking and beating himself about the pate with a frenzy. It was at that very moment that I realised I had forgotten to bring old Harrison's pocket-watch with me. I cursed and double cursed myself.

Well, you can imagine what happened next, so I shan't bore you with the telling. Suffice it to say: the Trinity breakdancing championships were never the same again!
[n/a] zodiac › -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. 23-Jan-04/11:53 AM Reply
You're own of the old-time mythmakers. I'm going to read some of your posts. Sorry for taking so long about it.
[9] horus8 23-Jan-04/10:18 AM Reply
Weird.
[n/a] zodiac › horus8 23-Jan-04/12:08 PM Reply
I have to say (reading it now after 9 hours of hideous MA comps) that it does have a kind of logic to it. Even more, maybe, than I thought when I deliriously wrote it this morning.
[n/a] zodiac › zodiac 2-Feb-04/12:16 PM Reply
In English lit, oddly enough.
[n/a] zodiac › horus8 23-Jan-04/12:10 PM Reply
There was an earlier and longer version with an extended conversation between Blake and a Baron von Goering (seriously) that dark angel would have gotten and nobody else, including myself. I'm glad it's dead. And yes, it does suck to endlessly comment on your own posts.
[10] INTRANSIT 23-Jan-04/1:21 PM Reply
the harem smell of disinterest- perfect! Full load!
[10] titan69 24-Jan-04/12:32 AM Reply
What a marster pease.I woke up last night and found
that i had been making love to my right hand ??
[9] horus8 › titan69 24-Jan-04/12:35 AM Reply
yeah? well that's highly unlikely since I had your hands over here last night stuffing my raffiolis, you fucking hack.
[n/a] deleted user 24-Jan-04/1:18 PM Reply
I see no nicknames here. Please do not appropriate Jesus without appropriate documentation.
[n/a] zodiac › deleted user 24-Jan-04/9:45 PM Reply
Jesus is a Greek nickname for a Hebrew. And who the hell do you think you are? If you can explain without nicknames or hiding behind your oh-so-liberating internet anonymity, then this poem isn't about you. Besides, it's obviously just a sci-fi story idea too weak to put into prose with a quirky only-halfway-related title.
[n/a] zodiac › zodiac 2-Feb-04/12:19 PM Reply
You do use different identities, though. The sci-fi story that didn't work out is that since everyone could change faces every few days, there was no accountability for anything. In the story this anonymous man-on-the-town meets a great woman and seduces her, only to discover that she's his wife. It comes, I think, from the rather mundane possibility of someone having an internet affair with his spouse unknowingly. But I think it works just as well for poemranker. What do you think?